Yamini Parashar is pursuing her BA from Delhi university. She likes to write poems and observe things and is concerned with social issues. She identifies herself as a feminist and sees herself as a clinical psychologist in a few years. She’s been a part of a few poetry programmes held in her city.
Dear mother, I wish you could have told me some things And I could have said some to you If only if we had interacted and spoken, These disparities would not have been so severe. I wish To untangle the chaos from our lives even now But how do we even begin? I want to sleep on your lap again But realise at every point in life That it made no difference, Talking, I mean, You said, “Don’t talk to me now.” What was my mistake? How do you not see the scars, The bullets in the heart, When I stopped interacting with people? Because you didn’t even acknowledge them When I was dying from pain In the soul. For you never told me What that red blood meant Until it flowed between my thighs And I feel disgusted not because of the blood But because you chose to be ignorant I feel bad not because we stopped talking Not talking was my decision But faking it was yours. Life exhausted me with the burden that I carried which I was not responsible for And then too, you chose to be negligent Telling me, “Talking to boys is your fault. Arguing with your brothers is your fault.” And then I decided that maybe I was at fault. When relatives laughed at a gathering Because I was a little clumsy And because I spoke my heart out Or because I was unlike my cousins Who seemed to be experts in everything. And you, again Displaying my flaws in front of the aunties And then laughing Like it didn’t matter And all you said was, “It’s just for fun. I did not intend to hurt you.” Maybe I made those mistakes Tell me, how do I repent for them? How do I unmake those mistakes? Then I remember I have been burnt and left like ashes Who could not do anything than die And do you even remember my last cry? You used to say, “She’s very strong.” And yes, you made me that strong When you chose to be ignorant again When that pervert, in my own house, Tried to put his hand under my clothes And grab my breasts And held my hand And made me touch Where I didn’t want to And when I told you Hoping you would understand This time you told me to ignore it And keep my mouth shut. When this happened the second time And that person wanted to see me naked I ran for my life But that was in vain. I tried to tell you But couldn’t gather the courage because All you ever did was ignore me Because you said ‘Ignorance is bliss’ And yet, you say that I don’t tell you anything Now, courage seems so far away And trust seems so broken And when I reach “marriageable” age You’ll find a man for me Who, I’m pretty sure, Would do the same things to me. Would you tell me to ignore it this time too?
Opinions expressed are of the writer.
*This blog was first published on Safecity.